Lord of the Drunks!
by Little Frodo
Summary: Drunken fun with the fellowship - Please R/R! Good drunken comedy!
1. Frodo Get's Drunk

**Chapter 01: Back at the Prancing Pony (G, Humourous) **

(Note: This is just a random, off the cuff fiction, set AFTER the three books. Now, I haven't read the three books and quite obviously haven't seen the next two movies, so I don't know if all of the characters are still around by this time. Either way, please read and enjoy, and post a review. Thanks)

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Company was scarce.

A lone candle was all that lit the hollowed room and Frodo sat alone in the corner of it, sipping a half drunken mug of cold beer. He absently stared at the vanishing white froth that lay in a thick blanket on top of the drink, forming snowy, alcohol scented mountains, which, one by one, disappeared as Frodo jiggled the glass, bringing the beer to the surface. He sipped at it, though he was not really thirsty.

In the background, he could see the bartender cleaning tables, and seeing off the other remaining customer that was almost comatose, leaning up the bar muttering curse words that not even the commonest of Hobbits dared use. Frodo's eyes widened and a smile escaped him as he watched the bartender drag the drunk by his thin, scraggly hair out of the door.

'I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to leave aswell, young Master, we're closed now.' chortled the bartender walking up to Frodo's table. One could say however, that it was more of a waddle, as the man was quite stocky in build, quite possibly due to beer. He went on. 'But I shall let you finish up your drink first.'

Frodo nodded up at the tall human and glanced around the room in search of Sam, Merry and Pippin. He had lost sight of them less than an hour after they had arrived at The Prancing Pony; a place where Frodo never thought he would be again.

'Where are they?' Frodo muttered to himself. Gulping down the last of his flat beer, Frodo winced at the taste and shook his head, blinking hard to prevent himself from passing out. The rumours were true about the beer at The Prancing Pony; strongest ale one could ever find, could get you drink in half a pint. Frodo had drunk several pints; he had lost count at around four. Handing his mug back to the bartender, he staggered towards the doorway and stopped. The bartender noticed.

'Something wrong, young Sir?' he enquired. Frodo paused and once again looked around the room. 'Have you lost something?' Frodo looked at the man, thoughtfully through blurred eyes.  
'I can't seem to find my friends' slurred Frodo, finally feeling the effects of alcohol now he had stood up. The room swayed and spun about him; he was starting to get somewhat dizzy.

Maintaining balance the best he could, he begun to walk around the room, calling out their names. 'Sam! Pippin! Merry! This is no time to be hiding from me, we must get some rest, for we are leaving early tomorrow! Rivendell might have run off by the time we... the time we...' He could say no more, for he was beginning to feel ill. Slapping one hand loudly over his mouth, he bolted through the entrance to The Prancing Pony out on the street, where he was gladly relieved of all of the beer he had taken in. Inside, the bartender listened, and cringed.

'Dear me! I really should learn to cut Hobbits off after two drinks' he muttered. 'They simply can't handle it.' Then, knowing the business outside was none of his own, he continued to clean the tables and prepare his bar for closure until the next night.

'Frodo? Frodo? Frodo Baggins, where are you?' Pippin chirped, as he Merry and Sam walked back to their rooms at the Inn. 'Where could he be Sam?' Sam shook his head, but did not seem worried, for Frodo was in no danger, not any more, so Sam needed not to be looking out for Frodo as often as he once did.  
'I've not a clue, Pippin. Don't you worry, I'm sure that Mr. Frodo's around these parts somewhere. The old man at the gate may be blind, but you can assure he won't let no Hobbit through those gates after dark, on my request.' Pippin and Merry had to laugh.

'You told the man at the gates not to let Frodo out after dark?' he howled, laughing. 'Oh Sam, you are funny! Fancy Mr. Frodo trying to run away from us, after all, was it us who ran away from him. I'll bet he's looking for us right now, and I'll swear my shirt on it that he will be not pleased at all! Oh look, there he is! Frodo!'

All three glanced at Frodo, who, still outside The Prancing Pony, was on his knees with his head in a stray bucket, normally filled with water for dogs to drink from. The water was now disregarded, running down the pathway and into the grassy sides. Foul sounds echoed from the bucket which made Pippin's teeth grind.

Frodo lifted his head. He knew that they were standing before him to put him to bed and give him a good night's sleep. But Frodo did not want to move, he merely wanted to stay put, where the world was not spinning. Sam shook his head, discontented.

'Oh Sam' said Frodo. 'Had I remembered the strength of the ale here...' he got no further, his head was back in the bucket. Pippin made a noise that sounded like a 'ick' sound, but one could not be too sure. Sam crouched down to Frodo and patted him on the back, which did not make matters better. Frodo again emerged from the bucket. 'Please, let me be here, I dare not move, the world spins to much.'

'Come on, Mr. Frodo' said Sam, ignoring his friend's pleads. 'We'd best get you back to your room. We don't want you out here all night in the cold. The weather plays nasty tricks on a Hobbit's health. Merry, help me get Mr. Frodo to his room, and Pippin?' Pippin looked at Sam, eyes wide. He had been glaring at the bucket, wishing to never see what was inside.

'Yes, Sam?'

'Grab the bucket.'

Once Frodo was in bed, his stomach seemed to settle. He had to admit, it was much more comfortable than sleeping on the step of the Inn. Sam tucked him in, but not too tight, as his eyes were grey and dull, and his skin had turned an off shade of white. Once he was done, and he was sure Frodo was drifting to sleep, he sat on a nearby chair, watching worriedly.

'What's the matter, Sam?' enquired Merry, taking a seat on the edge of Frodo's bed. Sam laughed quietly and rubbed his tired eyes. 'Frodo will be all right, he just drunk too much is all. Give him until morning. Then we're off to Rivendell' Merry added with a smile. 'He'll feel much better once he sees the Elves. He has been wanting to meet Legolas again, and from what I hear, Arwen also.' Sam nodded.

'You're right Merry. I am a fool for worry. Come, let us all rest as soundly as Mr. Frodo, a long journey awaits us at dawn.' On that positive note, the three sober Hobbits climbed into their own beds and fell willingly into the land of slumber.


	2. Sing A Jaunty Tune!

**Chapter 02: Starting off to Rivendell**

Disclaimer: Do I be looking like Tolkien to you? :op. Oh and thanks for the reviews! It gets a whole lot funnier from here on out! Enjoy folkies!

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'Frodo! Wake up, we must get going if we're going to get to Rivendell' chimed Pippin, jumping up and down on Frodo's bed. Frodo sat up, looking an odd shade of white and green. It was evident to all he was going to suffer heavily from his binge drinking the night before. Frodo managed several incoherent grunts before pushing Pippin off the bed, who landed on the floor with a squeak and a thud.

'Shut up you Scottish fool' said Frodo.

'Um, Frodo?' enquired Samwise.

'Hmm?'

'What's a Scottish?' Frodo paused, blinked and shrugged at his friend. Pippin stood up and rubbed his sore behind. Frodo stumbled out of his bed, clutching his head, groaning at the pain of his hangover.

'Would you like some help, Mr. Frodo?' Frodo mumbled, shaking his head, his eyes closed. Walking around with ones eyes closed proved somewhat fatal to Frodo, especially when he aimed to walk into the bathroom and went smacking into the doorframe.

'Owch!' said Frodo. His friends mimicked the sound, all rubbing their own heads as if they were the ones who had walked into the door. Frodo scowled at them all and staggered his way into the bathroom. Several minutes later he surfaced, looking more hobbit-ish than he had done when he had awoke. The stench of stale beer was now gone, his hair was combed as best it could be, and a little colour had returned to his face. He even managed a smile.

'Right, we'd better get going if we're going to see the Elves. They have beer, right?' the three Hobbits standing before Frodo blinked, cluelessly.

'You mean after last night you'd still drink?' said Merry, wide-eyed. Frodo laughed so much he fell over. On standing up he managed a response.

'Woo, sorry, got carried away there. Anyway, that's the only reason I'm going to Rivendell! Bring on the beer! Come, let us sing a song on this bright morning!'

And so, off they set along the paths towards the forest, chirping a happy tune to keep their spirits high and their morning happy;

_Off we go to Rivendell  
We're going to see the pretty Elves!  
One would call it a happy day  
But what the hell - like I care anyway!_

They stopped, stared and gaped at Frodo. 'Mr. Frodo, those aren't the words!' Frodo shrugged and suggested they join in another song with him.

'This one's more fun, just repeat after me!' and with that they begun marching at high speed into the forest, hidden from daylight, singing;

_We're the Hobbits yes we are  
We've travelled wide and travelled far  
We're in good spirits indeed  
So bring on the beer, and bring on the weed!_

_Now we're off to see the Elves  
I must ask Elrond to complete my shelves  
I think this weed is getting me high  
Oh look some Orcs, we're gonna die_

'ORCS!' cried Sam.

'Oh no! Orcs are coming!' yelled Pippin.

'This is awful! ORCS!' hissed Sam.

'We're the Hobbits yes we are.... What?' Frodo looked around. Following his friend's gaze, he noticed a stream of ten Orcs running towards them 'Good lord! Orcs!'

'Well, duh' said Pippin.


	3. Drunken Fools

**Chapter 03: ****Drunken Fools**

(Note: Well all know who owns the stuff, so there's no need for me to go into it :op)

'Orcs! What do we do?' cried Frodo, reaching for his glowing blue sword. He really did mean to give that back to old Bilbo. Still, he needed it now more than ever.

'You're not actually going to fight them, Mr. Frodo?' whispered Sam. Frodo assumed a karate stance and squawked . 'Mr. Frodo?'

'Hey, I barely got to use this damn sword whilst I was saving the world so now I shall defend my honour... and stuff. You can take my drunkenness, Orcs! but you will never take my FREEDOM!'

With that, Frodo turned around and pulled down his trousers! Needless to say the Orcs stopped dead in their tracks! One Orc covered his eyes and ran away, crying.

'Aaagh! He blinds me! Why must there be so much hair! Aaagh!' One by one, the Orcs slowly retreated. Once they had gone, Frodo pulled up his trousers and nodded, pleased. The others stared at him in horror.

'Euw' said Pippin.

'Quiet, Scottish fool' beamed Frodo. 'Come! Let us get to Rivendell! The entrance lies yonder!'

The four Hobbits arrived at Rivendell several days later than they had expected. On arrival, Legolas the Elf was standing on a balcony Romeo-and-Juliet-esque, searching for his friends, fearing that they were lost in the woodlands surrounding Rivendell.

'Frodo? Frodo? Where the heck art thou Frodo? I have great legs and a great name, but alas, what's in a name? For my face is prettier...' he went on like this for some time before Frodo had taken enough of a breath to stop laughing. Pippin on the other hand, was (quite literally) rolling around the floor like he had a squirrel in his underwear.

'What the flirkin shnit are you raving on about, man?' said Frodo, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Legolas jumped down with no more than a gentle tap from the balcony and shook Frodo's hand.

'Frodo, I was worried that you would not come. My eye sight is fantastic... Heck, my eyes are fantastic, but I could not see you coming through the thick woods.'

'Well duh.' said Frodo. 'Come, enough mindless banter, let us eat and drink, for our journey was long and our throats are dry. Tell me, friend, do you still possess beer?' Legolas nodded and led the way into his personal wine cellar. Which in fact turned out to not be a wine cellar at all, but more of a _beer _cellar! It was full to the brim with keg upon keg of the finest ale one would ever hope to come across (if one happened to be an alcoholic, anyway)

'Legolas!' Beamed Frodo. 'Your collection is enourmous! Much bigger than I had expected... It was so small when I first arrived, yet it tasted so sweet. Tell me, do you have ale from The Prancing Pony about your elf?' Legolas nodded and produced a smaller keg. Frodo had to refrain from snatching it as the sweet smell of beer rose from the tap.

'mmm... beer' muttered Frodo.

'Oh good god' squeaked Sam.

'The world is doomed' muttered Merry. 'Can you believe Bilbo asked_ this guy_ to save the world? I tell you Sir, I would have never have done such a thing. Drunken fool.'

With that, the five happy lot went off to get once again drunk on more beer than their tiny livers could handle.

THE END


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